There are dragons, and then there's me
by Dovahkiir2015
Summary: A straight forward, strong minded 18 year old bandit chief after dragons have returned. She faces more dangers than dragons, and seems to have no sense of fear. At times this can get a little gruesome, not a great summery.
1. Chapter 1

" _Dragons are not the only ones that are causing problems in this day and age, and I can see a way to use this to my advantage."_

Like many stories, this one starts on a stormy night in the middle of nowhere. Snow was piling up against the door of the small hut that was built out of logs and rope. A woman was screaming, clearly in agony. The wind was howling, but even that could not cover the screams and soon many ravenous creatures were circling the hut. Not much could drive a wolf or sabre tooth out in a storm like this one, but evidently the creatures that were gathering were more than simply starved and they would stop at nothing to find something to eat.  
"Asmund! Make sure the door is closed properly!" A man commanded his eldest son, a boy of nearly sixteen years with the deepest blue eyes and raven black hair. His nose had evidently been broken once or twice, but that did not hide how handsome he truly was, didn't hide the strength in his body. Asmund ran to the door just as it slammed open, snow and wind dancing in, savagely ripping at his hands and arms, almost putting the fire out. It was near impossible to move in the strength of the wind, but eventually Asmund managed to reach the door and slowly started forcing it closed again, then putting a plank of wood across the door, locking it closed as best he could against the force of the storm. He rushed back to his father, looking down at the man in worry. His father wasn't the shortest of men, but Asmund had still managed to grow to be taller than him, and hadn't stopped growing. In the room with him and his father was his sister, Brenna, and two brothers, Calder and Destin. All were younger than him, Destin was only five years old, Calder ten, Brenna twelve.  
"How is she?" Asmund asked his father, who shook his head.  
"I don't know." There was worry in the man's grey eyes and Asmund knew things weren't looking too good for his mother. Through all this worry and pain, the storm raged on and the creatures crept closer, the scent of blood and the hope for an easy kill calling them forth.  
It was into this scene that I was born.

* * *

"Ylva!" Endre, my second in command and best friend, called out as he started puffing up the hill I was standing on. I turned and looked at him, my brown hair getting blown into my pale face and silver-blue eyes. I could look quite serious when I wanted to, and right now I looked more serious than I ever had in my life. But somewhere deep in, hiding behind my slightly stormy eyes, there was a flicker of excitement.  
"What is it, Endre?" I asked, making my way towards him over the snow covered ground. He stood before me, slowly catching his breath and I sighed. It was a bit annoying that he wasn't as fit as he used to be, we hadn't had as much work for quite a while. It is hard to attack people on the roads when people are a bit afraid to travel due to the war. Who knows when you'll come across a soldier from the opposing side? Sure, I had my contacts, but even I had trouble knowing where and when sometimes, so it was harder to find us work. I pulled out my elven dagger and idly started playing with it, testing its point on my thumb and twirling it around. Endre knew that this meant I was getting sick of waiting and straightened up.  
"We have received word from Helgen. Apparently a dragon attacked it. Not very many people escaped as far as we know." I smiled at him and nodded.  
"I thought that was a dragon I saw, flying off towards Riverwood. This is good news indeed."  
"How is a dragon good news? Ylva, we are having enough trouble getting work as it is, how is a dragon going to help our cause?"  
"Dragons are not the only ones that are causing problems in this day and age, and I can see a way to use this to my advantage."  
"How? You aren't exactly answering my question here."  
"Oh, you poor little Endre. Don't you see it?" I asked, walking down the hill, turning around to look at him, still walking, arms open, "There are dragons, and then there's me."

* * *

I walked along the path, my band of merry men behind me. I was the only woman in this company, and I was the boss. Bandit Chief, you would call me, and I was quite happy with that title, even if the rest of my happy little family weren't. Asmund had been utterly horrified when he found out that I had turned into a bandit, Brenna had collapsed in an unconscious heap (not too good, considering she was pregnant with another little wiz banger), Calder just looked at me like I was insane, and Destin… Well, Destin is Destin. No one knows what is going on in his head. He was just a little bit special. I saw a group of Stormcloaks coming towards us and a blood thirsty grin snuck its way onto my lips.  
"Alright then men, you want a little sport? Or shall we let them continue onwards?" I asked. Endre stepped up next to me.  
"Ylva, I don't think that this is the best time to be picking fights." He advised. I rolled my eyes.  
"Fine. Be a spoil sport. Stand down, men. We'll just pretend to be mercs or something." I muttered. I knew Endre was just trying to protect me, but it still got on my nerves. I did respect his experience and the nine knew I needed it, I was pretty much just a kid. Eighteen was hardly old enough to count as a woman, and I definitely wouldn't have made it to being a bandit chief if it weren't for Endre, who acted as my tutor a lot of the time. The Stormcloak soldiers gave us amused looks as we walked past.  
"Look at them, playing at being soldiers." One of them said.  
"Stay out of the way, cat, or you might find I have a new pair of boots, or my wife might just have a new rug to beat."  
"Careful, it'd be impossible to get the skooma fumes from it." Zoarzah, a pale brown khajiit with rather large ears lunged for the Stormcloaks that were now laughing to themselves about how khajiit always seemed to be skooma addicts.  
"Dandler! Stop him!" I yelled at a dunmer we had in the team. We really were a bunch of misfits, but we didn't care. We all got along and no one was any better than anyone else, we all managed to fit in. I suppose that is what we really were, a safe haven for anyone who didn't fit. Though we all had some sort of skill for using when we're in the middle of a bit of banditry. Dandler was no small dunmer, being rather tall and rather strong to match. About the only person in our little group that could best him in strength would be our orc, Ushub. Zoarzah had hardly a hope at sinking his claws into the Stormcloaks, for which I was grateful. But then the Stormcloaks seriously did something to piss me off.  
"You should have stayed in your forest, wood elves." One of them slurred. Evidently he'd been on the mead, and a bit much. Oh, but if making fun of my wood elves wasn't enough, they turned on Endre.  
"So, why are you with this rag tag bunch o' hickies? You babysitting them or something? Or are they looking after you and changing your nappies because you're so old?" The first Stormcloak asked him. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, the way it always did when I was subconsciously preparing for a fight. I pushed towards him and shoved him backwards.  
"You stay away from him." I hissed. He just laughed, a strange guffawing noise that sounded like he was trying to cough up a donkey.  
"What's this, Grandpopa? Your girlfriend?" That riled me up even more and I couldn't stop. I drew my knife and held it against his throat, slowly applying more and more pressure so that it cut deeper and deeper into his throat. Not the best way to kill someone, but it certainly made me feel better. The thrill of making blood flow out of someone's veins made my blood rush like some kind of water fall through my own veins, fire raging and blood boiling. I felt arms pull me backwards and I almost put my knife into my own man before I checked myself and let Endre take the knife off me.  
"I am no one's girlfriend and I pitty whoever you're bedding. I hope they bare you no children, or if you have kids then I hope they all drop dead and you have no more. Plus I hope you lose your head to a giant in the middle of battle. Or, actually, how about a khajiit that has been at the skooma? Lowest of the low in your opinion, I bet. You racist sons of whores would see that as a suitable punishment, it'd probably ensure you never saw Sovngarde." I smiled, which rather put him out. I doubted he'd ever seen a nord with teeth quite as pointy as mine. It sometimes paid off, having an argonian grandmother. I'll just say that I don't know who my grandfather is, some random nord who had a one night stand with an argonian. The outcome was rather funny looking, though my father didn't think so. According to him Mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. In my opinion she looked like she was trying to be a horse with strange blue feathers and overly pointed teeth. Regrettably she passed some of the feathers on to me and so I had to find a way to make it look like they were braided in with the rest of my hair. It gave a rather interesting effect, if I do say so myself. Anyhow, the Stormcloak got over his shock and slowly drew his sword. I grinned, blood in mind as I pulled out my own sword. It was simple iron, but it had seen me through many a skirmish and I owed it my life, it had tasted blood on more than one occasion. So had I, and it wasn't as good as dragon's made it out to be, but it's amazing how much fear you can strike into an opponent by drinking their comrade's blood. Rather entertaining too. It was now I realised just how much of a pretty boy this guy was, golden hair that fell in waves, tied back under his helmet. I could make out pale green eyes and some rather sharp angled cheek bones, quite attractive. But I didn't care. I was just thinking of how many ways I could cook his liver.  
"Wanna dance, pretty boy? Be careful, I might just step on your toes. And these spikes aren't for decoration." He looked down at my boots. They didn't have any spikes on them, that would simply be idiocy in my line of work. You don't want to leave tracks when you're on the move. But saying that they did have spikes did the trick and it gave me an opening, which I took and hit him in the face, making his helmet fly off. He leaned back, clutching his nose as blood streamed down his face. I took the opportunity to send a kick into his groin, which made him curl over and clutch his precious parts which no doubt had been used to rape the nine only knew how many woman. I knew what these precious warriors were like. Brenna didn't have a husband, and yet she had a son. Good kid too, a natural with a slingshot. The rest of the Stormcloaks were drawing their weapons by now and could tell without looking that Endre was shaking his head and drawing his great sword, which for some reason he had named Pointy (he never was the best at naming things, hell, he named his dog Bowow) and the rest of my men would be picking their targets. I smiled innocently at the man I was fighting, leaning on my sword.  
"Comfortable down there?" I asked. Pretty boy glared at me through the blood streaming down his face. I crouched down and put a finger to the blood, looking at the dark red sitting on my finger, then licked it off. It had the usually tang, but slightly colder than usual. I looked thoughtful and smacked my lips together a couple of times, then shrugged and stood up. I spat at him and sighed.  
"You seriously need to take better care of yourself. I've tasted better blood from Imperials. Doesn't that just make you want to curl up and be sick? You can't even beat the Imperials in taste," He threw up and I had to take a step back, a look of disgust on my face, "Next time aim away from my boots." I said as I stuck my blade through his neck. My men very quickly disposed of the rest of the Stormcloaks and I looked to Endre. He glared back at me and I smiled.  
"Don't you dare say you knew that you could win the fight." He said.  
"Why would I say it when you said it for me, old friend." I laughed and he hit me around the head. Not hard, but enough to get the message through, at least temporarily. Don't be an idiot, be smart, don't get your men killed, don't get yourself killed, and by the nine, keep a hold of your temper. I knew the lecture and it had gotten to the point where Endre didn't even have to say it. I knew it off by heart, even if I didn't really listen to the advice. Killing people was simply too much fun.

* * *

 **Author's note: So, I'm just seeing how much interest I get in this. I haven't actually been able to work on it for a while, so I might be a bit slow updating this while I get back into the feel of things and remember where I was planning on it heading. :) Please, I'd love to get advice about this, see what you guys think of it.**


	2. Chapter 2

_"You do know why the last Bandit Chief lost his position, don't you?"_

 _"Sure I do. He fucked with me one too many times and I tore his tongue out, and boy did it taste good."_

We were camped out in the forest, setting up tents when some halfwit came blundering in. Ushub picked up his war hammer, but I held up my hand and looked at the new comer. He was wearing ragged clothes and had bare feet. He looked like he was a Redguard, either that or a really dark skinned Imperial or Nord. He had brown eyes and brown hair that was tied back in a ponytail. Scars riddled the skin that was visible, but they didn't look like scars from war. More like slavery, and there was almost nothing I despised more than slavery and the stuck up Thalmor. I walked up to him.

"What's your name and what are you doing here?" I asked as I offered a hand down to help him to his feet. He looked at me, fear in his eyes. He was a large man, strong, muscular, and in his eyes I could tell there was pride. It ruined him to have someone see him in this sort of condition. For a moment neither of us moved, then he reluctantly accepted my hand and I hauled him to his feet, but he still didn't answer. I shrugged.

"Alright, I could always get my friends here to kick your arse. If you talk then you can get some better clothes and some shoes, don't want your wee tootsies to drop off, now do we?" I folded my arms and looked the newcomer in the eye, which wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do. He was a pretty tall guy, far taller than me and I was reasonably tall for a Nord. He looked down at me and managed to summon up some courage or muster what little pride he had left.

"My name is Trast and I am here because I was escaping from Helgen."

"Well, Trast, you've come a fair way. Helgen is quite a distance when riding, even further when walking. Where is it that you are headed?"

"Riverwood. Is it close?"

"Well, if you call a day's walk in a general north east direction close. I suppose comparatively it is close, but it would still take a little while to get there. I would offer to take you, but ah… We're not going that way. I'm sure the next bunch of Stormcloaks that go by will be happy to take you there." I smiled and looked at my fingernails, some of my men chuckling at the memory. Trast looked around, mild confusion in his eyes. Endre came up to me.

"Perhaps we should send him on his way?" He suggested. I shook my head.

"If he wants to stay, then he can stay for the night. We'll give him some of Ushub's spare clothes. Should be a bit big, but a bit big is better than a bit small or a bit feminine, and it's certainly better than that trash. He'll have to fend for himself when it comes to armour, we have none to spare," I turned away from Endre and looked at Trast, "The choice is yours. Catch your death in those rags, or talk to Ushub. He's the orc. Watch out; he might hug you to death." I smiled and walked off, Endre not too far behind.

"Why are you helping him?" He asked. I rolled my eyes.

"Look here, Endre, I'm not all about having enemies. I doubt we could hold out against the Stormcloaks, the Imperials, and the Thalmor all at the same time. How many are we? We're quite a small group of bandits, all in all. We need some friends in this time and age. Dragons, civil war, what else is going to come along? We just don't know. Hell, for all we know the Dragonborn is right under our noses, and we don't even know it." I stopped and whirled around to face him. Endre shook his head at me.

"I don't know how well any of them would take your way of thinking."

"Eh, neither do I. Suppose that's half the fun, ain't it?" I grinned and moved to skip off, but Endre stopped me.

"You do know why the last Bandit Chief lost his position, don't you?"

"Sure I do. He fucked with me one too many times and I tore his tongue out, and boy did it taste good."

"You know you're disgusting habits don't freak me out, and you know you didn't actually eat his tongue." Endre scolded. I chuckled to myself, the memory of the look on my predecessor's face when I killed him flickering in front of my eyes.

"Yeah, but it makes for a good story. A reputation is the only thing a girl has."

"The reason your predecessor lost his position is because he lost respect and ended up being killed. You cannot afford to lose anyone's respect, Ylva, or you will be killed."

"HA! By who? What fool would be brave enough to challenge me? I bet he'd have a stupid green hat and overly pointy ears that stick out half a mile. And even though he would claim to be courageous, he would, in truth, be too scared to talk to girls. That sounds like the type of person who would be stupid enough to challenge me."

"Why is it you never listen to my advice?" Endre asked, looking at me in disgust. I rolled my eyes.

"I listened to you for the last guy. His head is probably still by the side of the road on that peg. I was quite proud of that peg. Needed a few more guts draped over it though. I'll have to remember for last time."

"You talk big, but would you be willing to do it to someone who you thought of as a friend?" Endre asked. I sighed, shaking my head.

"Then I would be filled with a blinding rage and turning into an overgrown, fire breathing lizard and eat whoever betrayed me after I turned them into a nice, tasty piece of charcoal."

"Enough sarcasm, Ylva. I was asked to look after you by your father and I intend to keep my promise, which means I have to make sure you don't go and be an idiot, getting yourself killed." Endre said. I glared at him.

"I wish you'd stop being such a softy on me. With anyone else you'd be drilling them and calling them fuckwits and all sorts of other horrible things, but with me you just try to guilt trip me. I don't give two damns about what kind of promise you made my stuck up, son of a whore father of mine." I snapped. I really did love Endre, he was my best friend and teacher, but he really did get on my nerves at times. He looked at me in disgust and turned away from me. I just stood there, not really caring. He brought it upon himself, he deserved it. And yet I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. Someone in my position needed friends, and all I seemed any good at was driving them away, one by one. I knew what it took to lead, but I didn't always want to because it would mean doing things that I didn't hugely want to.

"Ugh!" I raged, storming off away from camp. I just wanted Endre to trust me more, but I knew he'd always view me as the little kid he met all that time ago, and I wished he wouldn't.

* * *

I returned to camp quite a while later, in fact it was so much later that most of my men had either gone to bed or were sitting around the fire telling stories of their lives before they joined up with this company.

"Ushub!" I said. The orc looked up from the fire, his green skin reflecting the light from the fire. I motioned for him to come and join me. He hauled his massive body up from by the fire and joined me at the edge of our camp.

"Chief?"

"Where's the kid that stumbled across our camp? The redguard?"

"He is hardly a child. He is certainly older than you are, possibly around my age." Ushub growled. He was a gruff sounding orc with greyish hair and blue eyes, rather large… tusks, I suppose you could call them. Or fangs, I don't exactly know what you would call them, but I sure as hell wouldn't want them. I wondered if child orcs had them or if they grew or what. But despite how frightening Ushub seemed, he was actually quite a soft hearted character, always seeming to worry about everyone else before him. Except when he was fighting. When he was fighting, everyone had to watch out for him, he didn't really care what side the person he was attacking was on. Got us all into a bit of trouble really. I glared at him.

"You know, I honestly couldn't care less if he was Endre's age. Where's the redguard?"

"You said that he could stay for the night, get back on his feet. He decided to take up that offer."

"Which tent is he in?" I asked. Ushub pointed at a tent that was nearer to the edge. I nodded in thanks and headed off towards it. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I was mildly curious about Trast and I wanted to learn more about him, probably wanted to learn more about his past because I had never actually been out of Skyrim.

"Ylva might not want to disturb the newcomer." Zoarzah said from the shadows, rather sadistically. He always had that kind of soft, silken voice that he used on almost everyone, but it seemed to become even more sadistic on me. I looked at the khajiit with over sized ears and raised an eyebrow.

"And why might that be?"

"The newcomer Trast might very well be asleep."

"Then he's about to be woken up."

"Why doesn't Ylva spend her time with Zoarzah instead of waking up the newcomer?"

"I bet I would in your wildest dreams. But in reality? Well, I don't think we're all that compatible Zoarzah. And I know that is all you want from me. Someone to keep you warm at night." I rolled my eyes and slipped into the tent. Trast looked at me in interest and I smiled. In truth I had doubted he would be asleep in the first place. I held a finger to my lips and waited for the tell tale sounds of Zoarzah walking away. When I heard them I smiled smugly.

"That was an interesting conversation." Trast said. I rolled my eyes and sat down next to him.

"That's Zoarzah for you. He's a good guy, you just have to know how to handle him. Or not be a woman, that works too. It's unfortunate that I don't have that option."

"But he is interested in you?" Trast asked. I snorted.

"Zoarzah seems to be interested in every female that moves. I'd hate to think about what some of his kids must look like, a few years ago he met a rather nice argonian. I didn't see Zoarzah 'til a few days later, so who knows? Perhaps there is some freakish lizard with fur rather than feathers." I grinned and Trast eyed me up, a look of intrigue in his eye.

"You have rather pointed teeth."

"Thank you for noticing. I have an interesting family history. It's most helpful when trying to disconcert people. How about you? What kind of a history do you have?" Trast propped himself up on his elbow and looked in my eyes. He smiled, but with his eyes, not his mouth.

"My father was Alik'r, and his father before him. For generations we have served and protected our people. I am also Alik'r, and I came here looking for a woman. I got separated, I suppose you could say, and ran into a few difficulties, but that is not what you asked. My father was a strict man, a good man, though I can hardly say he was kind to my brothers or me. The only person in the house he was truly kind to was my mother. She was a beautiful woman, kind and gentle. She had a way with children and she could calm even the wildest beast." He continued to talk, telling of his childhood, and I was enthralled in his stories. His voice wove around me like silk around a caterpillar and it was almost like I could see what happened to him as a young boy, like the images were dancing in the air in front of me. His voice was deep and rumbling, commanding attention, to be obeyed, and yet it was gentle and kind. From listening to his voice alone I felt like I could understand him, like everything about him was lain out on a plate before me to do with what I wished. He had a way with words that I felt few other people had.

"After I was fully trained I came here to help find the woman. You know roughly what happened after that, and now here I am."

"How did you get separated? And why all the scars? Why were you in rags and why are you headed to Riverwood?"

"The scars I got when I was a child. It is a long story, not one for telling in just one night, especially a night that is already half gone. I got separated from the group when I was hunting. Navigation has always been one of my shortcomings and I got lost, I am ashamed to say. I was caught by a group of Imperials and I was taken to Helgen. That is why I was in rags and it is also why I am headed to Riverwood." My eyes lit up and I grinned, excited.

"You saw the dragon?" Suddenly I was acting like a child, adrenaline rushing through my body in a way it rarely did anymore. Trast looked slightly startled by the tone in my voice, nodding slowly.

"I did. It arrived just as I was about to have my head chopped off by a man with one blind eye, if what I saw was correct."

"What was it like?"

"Different. There is nothing like the moment before you're about to have your head chopped off."

"Not that, I've just about had my head used as a ball for some sort of piggy in the middle game several times, I'm no stranger to the feeling. What was my competition like? The dragon?" Trast looked at me, highly unconvinced, not sure how exactly to reply. I edged slightly closer to him, a child who just wanted a bit more of the story to be told when its father has stopped in the most exciting, blood pumping moment, my eyes opened wide. He sighed and thought for a moment, remembering how it felt when the dragon attacked Helgen.

"Large, dark. In truth I suppose I owe that dragon my life, for without it my head would have rolled. It was, in truth, rather awe inspiring and frightening, the way it used its voice as a weapon. I have heard of such things, but I never thought I would witness it for myself."

"I wish I could have been there. There can't be anything more exhilarating than being so near to a dragon," I sighed, "Finally I seem to have some decent competition, a chance to be noticed, a chance to be feared." Trast didn't say anything and I looked at him. He seemed to be in a world of his own.

"You are a strange woman. Who would want such things?"

"That's just it, Trast. I'm not a woman. I'm just a girl with mad ideas, a thirst for blood, and a wish to be known, but more than that. A wish to be feared," I paused for dramatic effect, a serious look in my eye, "Plus I'm a bit of a freak of nature," I added with a small chuckle, getting up to leave the tent, "I shall leave you to rest. We both have a rather long day of travelling ahead of us." I said, leaving Trast shaking his head.

"You truly are a strange being."

"Yeah, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Being Nord isn't all it's cracked up to be, so why not add a dash of argonian?" I smirked and left the tent, heading to my own. The night was aging, stars shining down and beautiful greens and blues drifting across the sky in a beautiful light display.


End file.
